Nearly There
by Songfic Misstress
Summary: companion piece to "Fecking Diary" and "Betchin' Blog", this is Near's musing in his journal style blog. Lots of scared, angsty, attitudinal albino kid.
1. Day One: Play Therapy

**Nearly There**

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

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Hello.

The idea of writing one's thoughts and musings fr the world to see and judge really does not appeal to me . However, I can imagine that such an exercise shall prove therapeutic. I suppose I shall be forced to divulge irrelevant personal information... that is rather troubling. I digress. You may refer to me, if you refer to me at all, if I allow this to be read by the public, as "Near" as Matthew, aka "Matty-Mario3" already has. He, his love interest "Mello" and our shared idol "**L**iving and Breathing" all attended the same orphanage/ boarding school. We should be like brothers, Matt, Mello and I. I suppose in a twisted way we are, brothers with an exaggerated case of textbook style sibling rivalry and, in the case of , Matthew and Mello, incest issues. How repulsive.

I am in the lead of the trio when it comes to intellect. Mello is far too emotional and hasty, and Matthew does not apply himself. He would rather waste himself being busy with those games. I play a fair bit myself, but do so in a structural manner that keeps my mind sharp, and does not turn it into proverbial mush. Speaking of proverbial mush. Linder is giving me that look again. I feel that my legs have equivalent consistency of said mush, which in turn should be equal to...Jello? good thing I am siting already. I also feel...the only workable metaphor would be that small winged creatures are attempting to escape my stomach and small intestine.

Ludicrous. Yet I cannot explain her actions nor my reactions in any satisfactory manner. I do not like it. Perhaps, perhaps someone in the vastness of the internet can diagnose my ailment. I hate attending a physician, they always tell me the same things. Thus far in my sixteen years of life, I have been "informed" by various professionals of: My albinism (as if I didn't notice), my stunted growth, poor eating habits, and OCD. As if I didn't look in a mirror, see other people be giants in comparison to me, feed myself, or notice how I must stack things correctly. Quacks, all of them...

Please...someone rational... what's -wrong- with me this time?

I've had this feeling for a long time. I assumed it was just...pubescence making itself clear. "Lust", if you will. But it can't be. I've..sated anything that could be in that department. For the sake of making it go away, and personal growth, of course. For... the collection of data on human sexuality, if you will. Certainly not "just because". I suppose I shall have to tell you the whole story... at some point. Right now I just wish that Linder's glare didn't look so appealing. Odd, that I still refer to her by her last name. I know her given name, of course. I am her employer. She doesn't know either of my names, given or sur. To her I am simply Near, or "N". Not fair, not fair at all...

Yet I say I stand for justice.

She's still glaring at me, her hands on her swollen stomach. What does she want me to do? It was consensual, after all. I by no means forced her, as if I _could. _She is stronger than me, I openly admit it. She is older as well, at twenty four to my mere sixteen. What am I going to do? What does she _want?_

What's _wrong_ with me?

I'll allow someone to answer me at some point...right now I don't want anyone to read this... I just need to get it out...I do feel a fair bit better...

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	2. Day Two: Loaded Dice

**Nearly There**

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal. and I borrowed from Wikipedia for this.

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Hello again.

Apparently I need to give some form of biography. Don't expect much.

I'm short, especially for my age. This is accentuated by my hunched posture. I also have a tendency to hug one of my knees to my chest, mainly when I am thinking. I have a very fair complexion. My hair is white, my eyes are very dark, and I lack freckles. When I blush it is very noticeable. So I don't. I have been called a very cold person. I do not care for other's opinions, so it matters not. the only one who's opinion matter's to me is my hero. He goes by many names. I think I'll call him...Elliot here. Elliot is who I aspire to be. He isn't so much as a father figure so much as a God one.

Though all the kids at the orphanage were atheists, of course. Except possibly Mello. But of course, Mello is exempt to most generalities. But I'm not here to talk about Mello. I'm here to talk about me. My ethnicity is American, and I was raised in England. I have visited Japan and many other countries. I have never traveled on a plane without an adult. However, never has said adult been related to me. As made painfully clear prior to this, I am an orphan. I do not remember my parents. I am fairly certain my mother died giving childbirth, and that my father's identity was never known.

In a way I am glad. Had she lived, I never would have been graced with such opportunities given to me as those at the orphanage. Not that I rejoice in my mother's death or anything. I simply see the positive benefits from it. Better to think about those than dwell on death, correct? Death is an eventuality. It happens to every one at some point, despite the best attempts to avoid it. Death plays with a loaded dice. No matter what, it wins.

Like me. I also have a knack for playing with loaded dice. Not that I gambol. Not in that context, at least. The stakes when I stop playing and take life seriously are far higher. But again, the stakes aren't really that high. I play with a loaded dice.

_A **loaded** or **gaffed** die is a die that has been tampered with to land with a selected side facing upwards more often than it would simply by chance. There are methods of creating loaded dice, including having some edges round and other sharp and slightly off square faces. If the dice are not transparent, weights can be added to one side or the other. They can be modified to produce winners ("passers") or losers ("miss-outs"). "Tappers" have a drop of mercury in a reservoir at the center of the cube, with a capillary tube leading to another mercury reservoir at the side of the cube. The load is activated by tapping the die on the table so that the mercury leaves the center and travels to the side. Often one can see the circle of the cut used to remove the face and bury the weight. In a professional die, the weight is inserted in manufacture; in the case of a wooden die, this can be done by carving the die around a heavy inclusion, like a pebble around which a tree has grown._

_A variable loaded die is hollow with a small weight and a semi-solid substance inside, usually wax, whose melting point is just lower than the temperature of the human body. This allows the cheater to change the loading of the die by breathing on it or holding it firmly in hand, causing the wax to melt and the weight to drift down, making the chosen opposite face more likely to land up. A less common type of variable die can be made by inserting a magnet into the die and embedding a coil of wire in the game table. Then, either leave the current off and let the die roll unchanged or run current through the coil to increase the likelihood that the north side or the south side will land on the bottom depending on the direction of the current._

_Plastic dice can be biased to roll a certain number by heating them (for example in an oven) with the desired face upward, so that the plastic will soften slightly and "pool" at the opposite (bottom) side of the die without showing much, if any, visible distortion._

_Transparent acetate dice, used in all reputable casinos, are harder to tamper with._

There is no such thing as a transparent person. And people are easy to tamper with.

However, I honestly was not "tampering" with Linder. It was ...an odd stroke of chance, really, a ... miscalculation on my part... after all...how was a virgin to calculate the chances of impregnating someone?

I shall have to leave it here for now. I shall pick up again tomorrow...

Goodbye.

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	3. Day Three: Eight months

**Nearly There**

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal. and I borrowed from Wikipedia for this.

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Hello again.

I am neither amused nor content at this point in time. I am rather uncomfortable, shocked, and possibly disturbed. Linder, whom I am watching out of the corner of my eye at this very moment, is alternating between fits of rage and bouts of crying. I shall be frank. She is both alarming and frightening me with the amount of excess noise. She is not the Linder of eight months ago.

Eight months, fifteen days ago, to be more precise.

Back then, just over half a year in the past, she was cold as well. She was cold, calculating, aloof, remote, inaccessible, and cunning; so intelligent. I am sure she could be, and could –still- be, viewed as lovely, if plain. For her, I left my metaphorical cloud of objectivity. I found her beautiful. Not according to the Golden Ratio, not according to the media or society or to the common man. She was beautiful according to me.

I dreamt about her. I was, nay, I am sixteen.

The internet informed me that it was natural, that if anything, it should have happened sooner, that I was a late bloomer. Crude advice suggested that I basically make a fool of myself for her, archaic ideas that are rooted in the Middle Ages, bestowing gifts of flowers, of chocolate. HA.

She would not want those, the Linder of eight months past. That Linder was practical.

She…affected me. It is embarrassing to detail here, let it suffice to say that I had to arrange my habits to allow for a cold shower directly after waking. Cold spray is not pleasant, but the alternative idea of dealing with the problem manually, , if you get the picture, does not appeal to me.

Eventually the problem reached the point that I began to avoid Linder. That did not last long. It was detrimental to the case. I had to be direct. There was a sexual tension and I would not stand for it.

It was awkward, to say the least. My hypothesis was based on the idea that my body was craving sexual activity, which is a natural part of humanity, or so I'm told. Once said desire was sated (along with my curiosity for the female specimen that was Halle Linder) it would go away.

And after one round of penetrative intercourse, it did. I was content again.

Goodbye.

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Or maybe it is not "goodbye", yet. It is painfully obvious that I have skipped all detail of the intimate event, perhaps in doing so even shirking my authorial duty by leaving it out. I can't allow that. Even though no one is going to read this except me, I am a perfectionist… but right now I need to find Gevanni and inform him that if Halle doesn't get rocky road ice cream in the next twenty minutes she shall personally castrate him.

She would do it, too.

Goodbye.

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	4. Day Four: Confrontation

**Nearly There**

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal. and I borrowed from Wikipedia for this.

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Hello again.

Yesterday Matthew offended me. He stated that he has hopes that in the future I shall end my life by failed consumption of a piece of lego. In a way though, I can see why his statement is cutting. It hurts because I -do- play with lego. I'm sixteen. True, they have architectural value that eases my thinking when I make things with them. But I'm sixteen. I should be past this.

I admit such a thing has never been a concern for me before. but... It's hit me. I'm going to be a father.

Dear Lord what have I -done-?

Well, I know exactly what I did. I promised to recount it today, did I not?

Of course, such a thing did not just "occur". It was meticulously planned out. I would have it no other way. It began with a confrontation with Linder, of course. I was very awkward... It went roughly along the lines of this... exactly.

N: (playing with Gundams, gestures to chair) Linder...sit. I must speak with you. Gevanni, Rester, you are excused.

(Gevanni and Rester exit)

H: Yes Near?

N: (still playing with Gundams) You are distracting me. From my work.

H: I am? how?

N: You are female.

H: I'm aware of that. But...how does... oh.

N: Yes. "oh". (smashes Gundams together)

H: What do you want me to do about this situation?

N: I'm not sure yet. You've been making me lose sleep, as well.

hH: I have?

N: Dreams. Odd ones.

H: You -are- sixteen...

N: I am aware of my age, Halle. (tosses the Gundams aside, standing)

H: You can't be blaming me for this. (looks very uncomfortable)

N: I am.

H: It isn't -My- fault that you find me...

N: Visually stimulating.

H: (arches eyebrow) "_Visually Stimulating"_?

N : That is what I said, yes.

H: so what do you intend to do, dismiss me?

N: ( wraps hair around his finger) That would be very impractical.

H: Then what do you suggest, Near?

N: That depends...(blushes noticeably, shuffling closer awkwardly) on .. what you are open too.

H: (Eyes the blush and then laughs, taking Near's chin in her hand and tilting his face up so she can see it) You're cute.

N: ( wrinkles his nose, backing away from the touch, blushing more) I am not "cute".

H: Not often. Only when you're clueless.

N: Excuse me? O.O I am NOT clueless.

H: Not often.

N: To use inductive reasoning, I have never been observed as being clueless, and thus, as a well accepted generalization, never am. Therefore, it is a valid statement for me to say that I am never clueless.

H: Oh? so you know what you're doing right now? You are... clue-full?

N: ... ... ... ... uh. N-... Not precisely. (Sits at Halle's feet, hugging one of his knees to his chest) I am attempting to ask you for assistance, Halle. I am swallowing my pride here... I find it difficult enough without you mocking me.

H: (leans forward and brushes a strand of hair from Nears face) So you want my help. I... I'm flattered, really...But Near...surelly..-surelly- you -aren't- _suggesting_...

N: I am. (manages not flinch from her hand)

H: (retracts hand, staring levelly at Near) So you want to fuck me.

N: O.O I would not use such crude terms. But essentially, yes. It seems to be a plausible solution for my problem.

H: And you can't just hire a prostitute for this?

N: (looks away) I don not -want- a prostitute.

H: You want me

N: Affirmative.

H: (pulls out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one and taking a drag) Rester won't be happy.

N: (stares in awe) You smoke? Why would Commander rester by unhappy?

H: (blows a smoke ring) Only when stressed, Near. And he has a bit of a thing for me. We've been on and off for a while now...

N: (coughs) This conversation is proving to cause you distress? I apologize... (blinks) You and Rester ... uh...?

H: (sighs a cloud of smoke, relaxing) No shit Sherlock, of course I'm stressed... Yes, Rester and I have slept together, but we aren't anything more than good friends Friends with certain ... benefits.

N: O.O Oh.. ... ... ... If you are not... how do you say... an "item" then I see no reason why I should have any conflict with Rester.

H: (inhales smoke deeply and exhales it through her nostrils, laughing with a bitter tone) You wouldn't, would you. See conflict in this...

N: Excuse me? (stands again, slightly offended)

H: You are adorable Near, but very cold. Sometimes I doubt you -have- emotions.

That's when I kissed her. Her eyes widened for a moment and then slid to be half closed, and she forced her tongue into my mouth. She tasted like cherry chapstick and smoke. I recoiled from the slimy intruder, literally falling backwards.

N: Halle! That was highly unsanitary!

H: (sucks on her cigarette and laughs) And sex isn't?

N: ... er... I am not adorable. (ignores question)

H: (crushes cigarette into a Kleenex and tosses it into a nearby wastebasket) I think you should prove..interesting in bed...definitely worth my while. You seem...so inexperienced... so..._fresh_.

N: I hope to be. Though i would prefer not to be called "fresh" in such a manner, it makes me feel objectified, like a piece of meat.

H: I'll keep that in mind. there aren't going to be any strings attached to this, are there? No "relationship" or anything, right? Just a roll in the hay, one night thing. I loathe strings.

N: Thank you. I would not have it any other way. Strings would be most undesirable. The fewer complications the better. The less personal feelings mixed up in all this the more success it should have. I chose you because I trust that you won't take advantage of me being in a compromising position. And because there is only so much the internet can teach me.

H: (chuckles and smiles oddly) The internet is -nothing- compared to me.

N: I beg to differ. The internet is supposedly a fairly good substitute for intercourse if utilized correctly. However, I am not one to abuse it thusly.

H: We'll see about that.

N: I suppose we will... will you stay after work tonight?

H: I..I suppose... though truth be told, I'd far rather take you home with me...

N: (gulps, blush gone as he thinks for a moment) ... I... am alright with that. You can take me to your domicile. If that is what you wish.

H: Are we done here?

N: (still very thoughtful) Y-Yes...I suppose we are...better call in Gevanni and Rester again... please Linder, I'm sure I don't need to say this, but I'd prefer if this stayed discreet...

H: Of course, Near.

And that's how -that- went... I would continue, but I must find Gevanni and inform him that we are dangerously low on chop sui. I would find Rester, but he's been avoiding me. I digress. Tomorrow, I shall write again. Good day to you.

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	5. Day Six: Shower

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal. Yes, I cheated. This would be on everyone else's' day six. He's a busy kid, okay?!

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Hello again my non-existent audience.

I've not written at all for the past few days. Halle has been keeping me busy, demanding that -I- attend to her various desires, and I have also had some trouble revising what you are about to read. In all honesty, I don't want to explain my actions, for because of them I am weak. I am disgusted with myself to a degree, but then again, it was bound to happen at some point. Thinking about this so much has made me act most untoward at Matthew. I swore at him for not heeding a warning of mine... I digress.

Rester had left for his apartment and Gevanni had volunteered to do surveillance on one of our Kira suspects. Odd, it seems that with every passing day Gevanni is more and more interested in the dark haired lawyer, making his job an excuse for stalking. Not that I care, really, so long as he does not jeopardize the case, or make mistakes akin to the ones I myself committed.

Her apartment was organized and clean. There was a slight smell of lemon infused disinfecting cleaning product in the air. It was pleasant, and the clocks read ten thirty eight when I stepped in the door, which was off from accuracy by a good forty eight seconds. I did not mention that fact to my hostess at that time. She hung up her jacket, and I continued to observe what I could of her apartment from my vintage point, allowing me to view the tasteful carpeting of a short entrance hallway/mud room, not that there was any mud.

There was an uneasy silence, which, surprisingly, I was the one to break.

_Where is your bathroom?_

Halle led the way, past her impeccable kitchen and allowing my a glimpse of a small bedroom. I could see the light blue walls of her room as I shuffled past, and the color seemed comforting. I only realized the quizzical expression on Halle's face after we reached the washroom and I began to inspect. Her area of waste relief is the only one that I do not have cameras trained on, and thusly one of greater interest to me, trumping even that of her place of sleeping.

After cursory overlook of the room, which too, was clean, and smelled slightly more strongly of the lemon cleaner that I previously mentioned. It was of a fair size with a more than necessary amount of room for showering. There was no bathtub, which I for some reason I found surprising. I do not know why. Showers are far more efficient than baths, where one ends up sitting in their own dirt. Disgusting.

The only reason my mind entertained the idea of Halle's washroom having one of those old fashioned methods of cleaning was because the idea of Mello sleeping in a bathtub, using a hot water bottle as a pillow, had amused me for quite some time. I did not really feel comfortable that my imagination had been wrong. Even though, until now, no one knew I had thought such a childish thing.

_Mello lived here?_

Another nod from my tall silent female companion.I shrugged off the most definitely phantom glare I would be getting from my childhood rival. This was his domain...

_Did you two... ever... ahem...copulate? _

I felt the uncharacteristic blush reach my cheeks once again that day as I awaited an answer. Halle was studying me, I could feel it even though I avoided her eyes. Eventually she supplied me with a curt "no". I believed her. I still do. Why would she tell me about Rester and not Mello? She wouldn't . So, simply, she did not engage in sexual intercourse with Mello. End of story. Matthew can get an "I told you so" from me when he finally accepts that.

Again, I digress.

_What would you usually be doing right now?_

As I already knew, Halle's daily routine involved having a shower as soon as she returned home from work. And, as I believed she would, she informed me of what I already knew, confirming it. I gave a small smile, that I'm sure was rather perverted in hindsight, and timidly began to undo the buttons to her blouse. I had concluded that I should not let my presence be a disturbance to her general day. Other than engaging with me, of course...

She smiled back, and was soon nude. She then began to help me remove my clothes. I reluctantly allowed her to. I felt rather...shy. Embarrassed. Bashful. Uncomfortable also works. Suffice it to say that where I was not very very pale, I was very very red. And looking at her really didn't help anything, so I assumed by normal, knee hugging position on the floor, staring at the walls.

I looked up when I heard water running. Halle had began the shower, was checking the temperature, allowing me a very nice view of her posterior and calves. Very shapely, quite nice. She turned, and rather then looking me in the eye, or covering herself, or admonishing me for staring, -she- stared at -me-. Which was fair, I suppose, if utterly mortifying. She then helped me up, not that I needed any help, and for all intents and purposes, -pushed- me into the shower. She then joined me, and began to was my hair.

Not the hair on my head. I was rather shocked, quite frozen by her actions, jaw agape, water spraying into my mouth. I must have looked the embodiment of foolishness. In a corner of my mind, however, I was rejoicing. I was, once again, winning where Mello had not. He had -not- let Linder pleasure him, as she already was pleasuring me. I won, even if we never declared a contest in this particular venue. I was also going to lose my virginity a good two years before him. I stood stone cold still as she caressed my body and washed my hair (on my head this time). I wanted her to resume her earlier actions, but seemed to have lost control of my tongue. My mind was in a fuzz, it scared me, but was also exhilarating. I turned and embraced her, almost falling in the slippery shower stall.

I ran my hands aimlessly across her stomach and breasts, trying to get used to the feel of her soft skin and strange, foriegn curves. She made a sound similar to a purr, and stooped slightly to kiss me, her tongue being far more gentle this time then it had been at work. I nibble it lightly, curious as to her reaction. She grabbed my head and forced her tongue deeper into my mouth. I was not pleased, and began to splutter, fearing imminent suffocation. She disengaged and allowed me to catch my breath. I was about to chide her about the hygienic issues I had with her actions when I realized that we were in a shower. This was likely to be as clean as things could get. I looked around the bathroom again and felt the pressing urge to posses her, control her, own her. In short... crude terms... I wanted to fuck. I pawed at her, pulling her close, nibbling and licking everywhere, mainly along her neck and collar bone.

I was running on instinct. I felt like I was having a panic attack, without the panic. My heart was racing, I was perspiring slightly, my movements were rough, there was no calculation. Well, there was some, but it was all based on how to make Linder make more of thepurring sound or that..other one. I suppose it was a moan. She started biting at the shell of my ear, whispering into that we should go to bed. I shook my head vehmently, my hair spraying water in a manner akin to a wet dog. I was fine where we were. It was clean, it was an insult to Mello, and I was an impatient virgin. Within moments, I had rather forcefully (for me, at least) situated myself apropriatly. A simple nudge from her and I was...encased. it was amazing. The tactile sensations were impossible to describe, other than it was a very positive, clean, and pleasurable experience.

And then it was over, all too soon, the water running cold, my stomach feeling oddly ill at ease, and Halle grabbing a towel, and rooting througha cupboard and lighting a cigarette in the steamy room, the smoke and water vapour twisting around each other as we had a few moments before. I quickly redressed myself, still slightly damp and rather flushed.

She fed me pizza. And looked at me oddly when I ate it using a fork. It was rather awkward. I eventually felt compelled to ask if she had enjoyed the experience, as I knew for sure that -I- had. She siad that it was definitely wonderful...as I had assumed from her nail marks being left in my back. However, she obviously was not fully sated, for when we settled down for the night (she insisted that I sleep beside her, despite the fact I would have been fine reading on her couch all night). She..for all intents and purposesm, has her way with me. Not that I objected in the slightest. Repeat this several times that night. Until I knew exactly how everything felt, and...in a sense, it began to bore me.

Such things have not repeated themselves. It was a one night stand. And it was all I needed. I can quite easily just have a shower, (warm now) and use my photographic memory of such a night to experience similar phantom pleasures.

That is all I can share for now, I must get going. Halle wants her feet rubbed and my two other subordinates have disappeared. How convienent for them.

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**L**iving and Breathing: And easily hackable. Near, we need to talk. Instant message me as soon as you receive this message. I am _**not**_ pleased, number one. Not pleased at all.


	6. Day six: Convo

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal. Yes, I cheated. This would be on everyone else's' day six. He's a busy kid, okay?!

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Much has changed since my last writing, a few mere hours ago. I talked with my idol, "Elliot" ... here is our conversation. I ... will...explain at the end... oh dear...

Conversation

Albino-Mech-Kid: You read my blog

Living and Breathing: Yes, I did.

Albino-Mech-Kid: Your thoughts?

Living and Breathing: I am disappointed.

Albino-Mech-Kid: I know. But past that?

Living and Breathing: How could you not think, Near? I suppose it doesn't matter. Mr Blank shall be able to lend his services.

Albino-Mech-Kid: I'm sorry. I do not want Mr Blank services. Thank you for the offer, but no.

Living and Breathing: Then what do you plan to do with this... bi product of foolishness?

Albino-Mech-Kid: Deal with it myself. It is my mistake, my responsibility. I am obligated/

Living and Breathing: You are foolish, you are young, and not as smart as I once thought. You are under no obligation. I shall not allow you to deal with it yourself.

Albino-Mech-Kid: I hate to defy you, you know this. I refuse to allow Mr Blank to deal with this. If I can't then so be it. But no, not him.

Living and Breathing: ... ... ... ... what do you propose then, Near?

Albino-Mech-Kid: I shall find more capable hands on my own.

Living and Breathing: Mr Blank's hands are more than capable.

Albino-Mech-Kid: I said no!

Living and Breathing: ... you are not thinking. I do not wish to speak with a cretin. Good day, Near. Perhaps I will make efforts to communicate with you when you are worthy of such a thing. In short, smarten up.

Living and Breathing has signed out.

Albino-Mech-Kid: dammit.

end conversation

As you can clearly see, I have edited a name in here to be simply "Mr. Blank." I'm censoring myself now that I know how easily hackable this program is. The point that Elliot was trying to make was that Mr Blank has connections with orphanages. I do not wish to blindly send my offspring into the hands of strangers. It is, of course, too late for an abortion, not that I would approve of such a solution, nor would Halle, who first thought up the idea then vehemently opposed it. Pregnant women are so fickle... I digress.

I cannot raise a child on my own, Halle and I are not fit parents. She has no feelings for me other then mild loathing after what has happened, and I feel... I do not feel. I am stoic. I am me. And the Me that I am right now is not fit to raise a child. I am too immature, too distant. To disconnected. I -will- find someone with more capable hands then mine to take care of the child, but I have to know them myself.

I want them to be brilliant, but not cold. I want them to be happy, and able to cope with stressful situations. It would be nice for it to be a conventional family, with a mother and a father to add stability..I want to know them well, or at least as well as I tend to know people. They must be against Kira. I will have my daughter raised in a judicious home, Dammit! I refuse to just hand her over to complete strangers, or worse, never get adopted and grow up just like fucking me! I...I am becoming irrational... I must calm down... I... I swore... it felt NICE. Perhaps I should take a page from Mello and do it more often...it feels very liberating.

Wait, that makes no sense. There is nothing liberating about using crude distasteful words as means of expression. It is a sign of lack of intelligence...What is -wrong- with me lately?! I feel like a freaking teenage schoolgirl when it comes to Halle, even though she hates me. I've taken up swearing, and snuck a cigarette the other day. Just out of curiosity, knowing full well that I would do nothing but cough and find that the smoke tastes nothing like her kiss. Not that I WANT her goddamn kiss in the first place, dammit.

Shit. Perhaps I should just drop the whole stoic act and end up a raging hedonist. That would be interesting, what with my OCD and hygiene insistence. Then again, there were hedonists that believed in pleasure of the mind...Why am I even talking about this?!

"Elliot"...I know you're reading this. Please... I know you are disappointed, I know that you are on the cusp of disowning me. Just...please...I -idolized- you. Just...please...you would know, you know -everything-... what's WRONG with me!?

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Living and Breathing: You are in love Near.

- Albino Mech Child: Oh Fuck no...


	7. Day Seven: Irrational

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.  
I borrowed from Wikipedia again for a bit...

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**Love** represents a range of human emotions and experiences related to the senses of affection and sexual attraction. The word love can refer to a variety of different feelings, states, and attitudes, ranging from generic pleasure to intense interpersonal attraction. This diversity of meanings, combined with the complexity of the feelings involved, makes love unusually difficult to consistently define, even compared to other emotional states.

As an abstract concept _love_ usually refers to a strong, ineffable feeling towards for another person. Even this limited conception of love, however, encompasses a wealth of different feelings, from the passionate desire and intimacy of romantic love to the nonsexual. Love in its various forms acts as a major facilitator of interpersonal relationships and, owing to its central psychological importance, is one of the most common themes in the creative arts.

Shit. It fits. And there is more...

Chemistry

Biological models of sex tend to view love as a mammalian drive, much like hunger or thirst. Helen Fisher, a leading expert in the topic of love, divides the experience of love into three partly-overlapping stages: lust, attraction, and attachment. Lust exposes people to others, romantic attraction encourages people to focus their energy on mating, and attachment involves tolerating the spouse long enough to rear a child into infancy.

Matt and Mello have it. They just copulated last night, Matt told about it all in his blog. it's rather annoying. I know that it exists, they have it. Mello has beaten me again. He has requited, normal, if homosexual, love. And I don't. I have fucking -yearning-, I have a KID with the woman I'm nuts about, and I've been disowned by my only father figure, and dropped like a hot potato by the woman I would seriously marry if I were old enough.

Stupid laws. I'm -brilliant- for sixteen, who the hell cares if you have to be eighteen to get freaking married... then again, we could always just travel to where it's legal...

However, the point remains that she hates me for knocking her up. fuck fuck fuck.

GRAH!! LIFE SUCKS...

and the internet doesn't help. All it does is tell me I'm "Emo" and recommend music like this...

_  
I woke up it was 7  
I waited till 11  
Just to figure out that no one would call  
I think i got a lot of friends but I don't hear from them  
What's another night all alone?  
When your spending everyday on your own  
And here it goes_

_Chorus:  
I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare  
I'm just a kid, I know that its not fair  
Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is  
Having more fun than me  
Tonight..._

_And maybe when the night is dead, I'll crawl into my bed  
Staring at these 4 walls again  
I'll try to think about the last time, I had a good time  
Everyone's got somewhere to go  
And they're gonna leave me here on my own and here it goes_

_I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare  
I'm just a kid, I know that its not fair  
Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is  
Having more fun than me_

_What the fuck is wrong with me?  
Don't fit in with anybody  
How did this happen to me?  
Wide awake I'm bored and I can't fall asleep  
And every night is the worst night ever_

_I'm just a kid repeat x5_

_I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare  
I'm just a kid, I know that its not fair  
Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is  
Nobody wants to be alone in the world._

_I'm just a kid and life is a nightmare  
I'm just a kid, I know that its not fair  
Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is  
Nobody wants to be alone in the world  
Nobody cares, cause I'm alone and the world is  
Having more fun than me tonight_

_I'm all alone tonight  
Nobody cares tonight  
Cause I'm just a kid tonight_

Must they remind me that I'm a child? So many times? GRAH I'm not EMO!!

Just... FUCK OFF AND LEAVE ME ALONE!! YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!

OO holy... I'm being so irrational it's scary... this isn't -me-.

I need to calm down. In the meantime...here.

"Elliot"... help please... I need you...

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	8. Day Nine: Heartbreak and labour

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Nine here.

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O.O

Halle is in the early early stages of labor. It's more than likely a false alarm. But...shit, I'm going to be a father. I'm going to be a -FATHER-. And ... she went into the ambulance alone, I had to get a ride from Gevanni when he returned from stalking our suspect...And ...it was so weird. I couldn't find her, and I had a panic attack, and then I was in a room with -Mello- and Roger, but Mello looked like he had been hit with a truck, and then when I got told that Halle was in the next room, with Matt, he jumped up to go see his boyfriend, and ... it's clear that they are in love, and ... well, Matt had thought he'd killed Mello, so was going to commit suicide.

And Mello stopped him. And it occurred to me. Halle wouldn't intervene if I was going to... you know. End it. So now I'm rather depressed. Abnd to make matters worse, I had to watch my rivel and his boy snuggle...and when I went to do the same to Halle, she -hit- me. And then...THEN Matt -proposed-...and Mello said yes...

And I looked at Halle...

and she turned away.

when a heart breaks there should be a sound, like bells or something. The empty quiet just makes it seem more alone and hollow and painful.

"Elliot"'s abandoned me. Halle hates me. My childhood rival has surpassed me in everything, found true love and without even meaning to, flaunts it in front of me.

Okay., This is enough, Near. Time to smarten up. Time to wake up and smell the coffee. Time to start fighting, and start off on the right foot. I can do this... I know I can.

I'll be okay. Who needs "Elliot"? I can make it on my own. I can do it. I'll make sure Natasha (The name Halle decided for our daughter) is in good hands, the ones I've already decided, and figure out what to do from there...

I can make it. I will survive this.

heh...I think... I have a plan... I can still be number one.

Just you wait and see.

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Living and Breathing: You are aware that assassinating me isn't an option, right?

- Albino-mech-kid: -.- Yes, Elliot. That's NOT my plan.

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	9. Day Eleven: Baby

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Eleven here.

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I have My baby girl taken care of. wow. They agreed. I am so grateful that they did me such a favor. I owe them much. So very much. The paperwork shall be done shortly after their wedding. You may be wondering, "Elliot", why on earth I would entrust my offspring, no, make that -any- offspring, with Mello.

True, he was a bully. True, he tormented me for all my life, continuing to this day. True, he has a short fuse and tends to be trigger happy. But somehow I doubts you ever saw him when he was grounded, when he had to stay inside alone. I highly doubt you ever saw Mello's other side, the one that he would hide. The one that went to the nursery area of the orphanage and sting to the newcomers, the infants that had just lost their parents.

Mello has a soft spot for kids. He will be a suitable parent, and Mathew wouldn't hurt a fly unless Mello made him. I am glad that Linder agreed to this; that she is not being stubborn. She seems sad, but realizes that it it best for our girl. It is very good that she is not trying to control who the next parents are, simply to deny me. She is allowing me this...again...I am grateful.

Also... I'll be putting my plan into motion soon. I must say, it is one of my most devious. Not usual for me at all... far better, in some ways...downright horrible in others...

I have to go, my daughter is crying... there are bottles around here somewhere...

bye.

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Living and Breathing: Near... who do you think showed Mello where the infants were -kept-? Of course I kne about that side, or I would not be allowing all this to take place.

- Albino-mech-kid: Don't you wonder what my plan is?!

- - Living and Breathing: not particularly.

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	10. Day Twelve: Luke Skywalker Shock

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day twelve here.

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I believe I may be in a state of shock. My plan did not work. That is not shocking. My plan sucked. What I wrote here was simply to gauge "Elliot"'s reaction. I held no true stock in it's success. I just... Goodness this is all a bit much... Allow me to begin at the beginning.

I dragged myself to -His- office. "Elliot"'s. He was there. I remained neutral, stoic, asking if we could talk. Now. Telling him I needed to talk. The moment he nodded his assent I was on my knees, begging, bawling, pleading not to get cut off, left alone, sent into the real world. I realize I would die there.My entire life revolved, still does revolve, around "Elliot". To be like him, to -BE- him. To help him. To replace him.

He was disgusted. Tears are not impressive. I'd made a fool out of myself, again. Devious it was most definitely not. I was dismissed, informed that the adoption process for Natasha would not need me, that I should leave the premises immediately. He didn't want to see me again, I was to leave his sight that very instant. He did not yell. He didn't need to. I slowly began to trudge out of the rooms, tears still flowing silently down my cheeks. I felt a warm heavy hand on my shoulder, turning me around to face Elliot again. It was ... "William", we'll call him. Elliots personal assistant. An older man, rather reserved from what I knew. His hand was on my shoulde, but his eyes were on Eliot, who glanced up for a moment and then back down at the crossword puzzle he was solving.

"I won't stand for you to send Near away, Elliot", he said in a surprisingly firm yet gentle tone. I believe it's the first time I've ever actually heard him speak. And the first time I've heard anyone say something contrary to Elliot. "It's not going to happen

"This is none of your business, he is not your concern." Elliot sounded... petulant.

"You are being a hypocrite, Elliot." William stated, to my horror. I gasped at such disrespect...

"You are being nosy, William. "

"He is your responsibility, Elliot."

"He is his -own- responsibility now, William."

William stood straighter, staring at Elliot's hunched form. "Don't make me do this, Eliot. You wanted it a secret. I will tell him if you force me to."

Elliot looked up sharply. "Don't you -dare-." he all but hissed. "He is not your concern!" He stared at me then, no, he -glared- at me, his large black eyes whirlpools I was drowning in, dying in. "You are dismissed! Leave!"

My feet tried to move, but I found William's arms around me, almost a hug, impeding my movement to the point that the expenditure of effort was futile. Not that I tried all that hard, I'll admit.

"He is my concern, though he should be yours far more than mine. Don't be so irresponsible, Elliot! I won't allow it!"

"William... He is capable of taking care of himself. I've done my part. He can go rot now for all I care..." he resumed his puzzle.

The grip tightened, becoming an actual hug, something I'd witnessed between Matt and Mello many times now, and I suppose in a different way had given Linder, but other then that, had never experienced. It was protective, saving me from the raven haired monster that wanted to send me to my death. I was almost too concentrated on the feeling to listen to the words. I'm glad I did listen, for they are the shock.

"You know very well he's my grandchild, you little brat. You never were good at hiding things from me, your own father, and I'm surprised how well you kept thigns from your own son. " Elliot's pen hit the carpet with a muted thud as my mind went blank and vision went black.

The last thing I heard as I fainted was Elliot's voice. "Well now look..."

When I awoke on the rough carpeting of Elliot's office. I was very confused. William was gone and Elliot was reading over his finished crossword puzzle. Upon noticing that I was indeed conscious again, he turned and began to speak.

"Near, I am your father. Now go to bed, we'll discuss this later."

It's later. I haven't slept, though I have sat on the cot that got brought into Linder's room. This... I'm in shock. That's all there is too it.

bye.

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Living and Breathing: Near... I do not sound petulant, and I am not a raven haired monster, and my eyes are not capable of drowning you. And you really should sleep, you aren't stable right now. You fainted. Get some rest.

- Albino-mech-kid: You're my father. All this time you've been being a jerk, and Watilliam said it himself. You're a hypocrite! You knocked someone up too! Why were you so damn hard on me for committing the same actions you yourself did!

- - Living and Breathing: Because. I'm special.

- - - Albino-mech-kid: No, You're NOT! You're a human, just like everyone else! How could you have done this to me, had me think I was a fucking ORPHAN rather then be a normal dad?! Why are you so fucked up that you were going to kick me out for being like you, when I've got your own DNA?! I HATE YOU!!

- - - - Living and Breathing: Then hate me. Perhaps after you are calmer and well rested we can have a chat. perhaps over computers, since I doubt you could swear or say you hate me to my face. Have a nice nap, son.

- - - - - Albino-mech-kid: ... fuck.

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	11. Day Twelve: Like Father, Like Son

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day twelve here.

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I am keeping track of these. It is purely copy and pasted, then changed names.

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AlbinoMechChild: I am well rested and fed. Explain now.

Living and Breathing: Explain what, exactly.

AlbinoMechChild: How I came into existence.

Living and Breathing: Ah, I see... I suppose no one at Wammy's told you... You see, one of my sperm cells reached an ova, rapid cell division occurred, and a zygote was formed. After a nine month gestation period, you traveled through a highly dilated cervix and birth canal. Thusly you came into existence. That's the bare bones of it, at least...

AlbinoMechChild: -.-; You know that's not what I meant.

Living and Breathing: I am not so presumptuous as to assume I am aware of your thoughts and intents

AlbinoMechChild: :sigh: Is William your father?

Living and Breathing: Yes.

AlbinoMechChild: And you are an only child?

Living and Breathing: Yes.

AlbinoMechChild: And William is my grandfather, since you are my father?

Living and Breathing: That is generally how it works, yes.

AlbinoMechChild: So who is the female in this equation? And how old are you!? The way my math works, you had your part in my conception when you were 12!

Living and Breathing: You were lied to.

AlbinoMechChild:About your age?

Living and Breathing: No. About your own.

AlbinoMechChild:...

Living and Breathing: I'll be back in a moment. My panda cookies are across the room...

AlbinoMechChild: ... k.

Living and Breathing: okay, I have returned. Panda cookies! They are stackable. You should partake sometime... :D (emoticon smile)

AlbinoMechChild: How old am I , Elliot? And who is my mother?!

Living and Breathing: Fourteen. I am twenty eight. For future grammatical reference, it is bad form to start a sentence with the word "and".

AlbinoMechChild: So You were fourteen when...and I'm fourteen... how... coincidental. ... How dare you insult my intelligence like that. I am aware of proper grammar... May I please know the identity of my mother now?

Living and Breathing: Like Father like Son... I need more coffee. BRB...

AlbinoMechChild: You are stalling. You are being very obvious about it.

Living and Breathing: Stalling? Whatever do you mean?

AlbinoMechChild: -.-;; Stalling, verb. "To be avoiding a direct response to a prompt or request in order to avoid addressing the subject altogether or buy time to keep from explaining or producing a direct answer."

Living and Breathing: ... ... ... She's dead. Do details really matter?

AlbinoMechChild: Very much so, to me.

Living and Breathing: :sighs: She died of smallpox when you were three months old.

AlbinoMechChild: Ah, considering that I believed she had died during childbirth, you have releived me of some guilt. Thank you.

Living and Breathing: I see. I am glad to have helped.

AlbinoMechChild:But who was she? A name? A nationality? I'm Albino, Ellliot, help me out here. I think I might be American...

Living and Breathing: Lithuanian, actually. Rosa Alexandria --.

AlbinoMechChild: Did you... Were the two of you very much in love?

Living and Breathing: ... my laptop battery is dying. I should say goodbye now.

AlbinoMechChild: There are wall plugs everywhere.

Living and Breathing: Has Signed out

AlbinoMechChild: Well fuck...

There was fifteen minutes of me staring at the blank convo before the rest occurred.

Living and Breathing: Has Signed in

Living and Breathing: You're still here?

AlbinoMechChild: Of course I am. You have yet to answer my question

Living and Breathing: Ah. Of course.

AlbinoMechChild: So, were you?

Living and Breathing: Was I what?

AlbinoMechChild: Were you and my mother very much in love?

Living and Breathing: ... ... ... ..

AlbinoMechChild: Elliot, this is my mother I'm discussing. I would appreciate the decency to answer my inquiries properly.

Living and Breathing: ... I solicited her.

AlbinoMechChild: My...My mother was a -?

Living and Breathing: Yes.

AlbinoMechChild: Oh.

Living and Breathing:...are you sad now?

AlbinoMechChild: Yes.

Living and Breathing: Why?

AlbinoMechChild: I..I don't really know. I suppose I just expected more. I shouldn't have.

Living and Breathing:I see. Anything else?

AlbinoMechChild: Did William have similar circumstances? Did you grow up as I did?

Living and Breathing:Not exactly. She did die when I was young and I was under a lot of stress, living with the other children of an orphanage, but I knew that William was my father... He doesn't like to speak of my mother, it makes him very sad.

AlbinoMechChild: Reasonable. Why did you lie to me just now about my mother? If she were a prostitute, there would be no guarantee that I am your child. You would have been able to get out of the obligation easily. If she was a woman of the night, then how do you know I am yours?

Living and Breathing: :) I am glad that you have not lost your touch all together. I did not pay your mother for her services, that was not her occupation.

AlbinoMechChild: So you lied.

Living and Breathing: I lie a lot, Near.

AlbinoMechChild: I've noticed. Please, the truth now... -.-

Living and Breathing: How can you trust what I say next will be true, Near? I've lied about your own age to your face for the past twelve years. Everything I say should be brought under question. I've raised you to be analytical. You are disappointing me again.

AlbinoMechChild: You didn't raise me at all! Though you're right. I guess I'll have to go to William if you are going to be so Goddamn childish.

Living and Breathing:Like Father, Like Son, Near

Living and Breathing: Has signed out.

AlbinoMechChild: Fucking Asshole...

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	12. Day Thirteen: Friends anda party?

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day thirteen

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Matt's family has arrived this evening. I am very depressed. I can't find William. Elliot is being as much as a bastard as always, avoiding me and such. I had a short conversation with Matt's dad. It was pleasant. He seems to be very much a "father figure". His name is James. He wears a suit. He works for a branch of the government, working on new ways to make planes. He's an engineer. He is kind. I like him. He's nice to me. He called me "sport". He speaks with a Texan accent. and smells like strong tobacco, not the stuff that Linder would smoke, but good, heady, tobacco. Tobacco and aftershave. He must be nearing fifty, I think... but still healthy.

We talked about physics, black holes, and possible alternate universes.He's smart, but not to the point of being obnoxious. It is clear that he missed his son dearly. He cares. He used the word "love". I think maybe James and Elliot should meet. James could give Elliot a lot of pointers. James keeps pictures of his kids in his wallet. I saw them. Matt's sister was nice to talk to as well, even though her and James don't get along perfectly. He showed me a picture of her in a tutu, she used to want to be a ballerina, and she kinda yelled at him. But they were still okay. :) And then James had to go find his wife, Rhia... so I got to talk to "Jade." We discussed government policy, freedom, ethics and morality. She was tricky. I like her. Not as much as I like Halle, but... she's nice.And she didn't try to ruffle my hair. She's OCD. She's also very smart. When I told her this, she said she had to be. She refused to elaborate. She was not in a Wammys, she was in some Christian orphanage run by nuns. Yet she's Discordian... She's interesting. She then bid me adieu, she wanted to snoop around Matt's room and see how similar they were. I was going to argue the ethical implications, but then reconsidered. They were twins. Who hadn't seen each other since the age of three. Of course she's curious. So I didn't object.

And I was alone. So I started a bit of a plot. Since There is now an actual family, and most of the residents of the hospital area are board, and I think we might just have enough people... Karaoke seems in order. I've already figured it out. I was just looking into getting a machine when I heard the scream. It didn't bother me much, there are a lot of screams in a hospital. I then realized that it was Jade's voice... From what I've surmised, Matt and Mello are over because Mello attempted to rape Jade. This smells like rotten fish, figuratively.

I'm sure they'll figure it out and be back together within a week. Perhaps my karaoke party thing will help. :D Anything is possible, right? ... oh no.

I think I may be insane. I'm planning a karaoke party. I'm making -friends-... WTF is wrong with me? And...why...

Why does this all feel so ... nice?

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	13. Day Fifteen: Patricide

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day fourteen

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"Patricide" is such a nice word...**Patricide** : (i) the act of killing one's father, or (ii) a person who kills his or her father. The word _patricide_ derives from the Latin word _pater_ (father) and the Latin suffix _-cida_ (cutter or killer). Patricide is a sub-form of parricide, which is defined as an act of killing a close relative.

I honestly have caught myself thinking about just stabbing him. I know you're reading this, Elliot, I think you have a right to know. I'm PISSED. Telling William not to tell me anything. Deleting those posts on Matt's wall. You BASTARD. I HATE you. I've never once imagined so vividly how to end someones life. Honestly, you just make me so MAD. I tore pieces of paper today. Clean, unused printer paper. You made me feel destructive. Oh well. At least I had a good talk with Mello. A very fruitful talk.

Mello: Hey, kid. I feel like shit, I'm going to talk to you until I feel marginally better. Complain and I'll kill you.

Near: OO. Good afternoon Mello. :keeps head down and stacks dice:

Mello: Don't you "good afternoon Mello" Me... oh... actually I have some bad news. Matt and I -

Near: Broke up. I'm aware.

Mello: Wha-?! HOW?! You been spying on me, you little freak!?

Near: ... I surmised from the yelling last night, coupled with your current black eye and the scene this morning at breakfast where Matthew punched you in the stomach.

Mello: ... oh. You saw that? :(

Near: Mello...everyone saw it. It was at breakfast.

Mello: ... I... knew that.

Near: Of course Mello. :continues to stack:

Mello: Damn it Near, what's your fucking problem? :knocks over the dice: ah...sorry...

Near: :begins to re-stack dice: ... Mello, shut the fuck up. I'm not being half as dramatic than you and have a few problems that are if not larger than yours, at least equivalent. If you won't be civil, I'm not going to listen to your shit.

Mello: :stunned: Whoa... is... is this about Natasha? I'm sure Matt's family will take her in. They seem to be a proper family... and if they won't, I will take care of her. I made a commitment that involved a child, I'm not about to go back on that.

Near: ... thank you Mello. That solves a lot. However I have a lot on my plate right now other than that that I would rather not discuss.

Mello:... damn, okay. I just kinda wanna talk, I'm really bored and lonely. :produces and unwraps a bar of chocolate: hey...want some?

Near: ... no. what do you want to talk about? :opens a bag of dice:

Mello: :munches chocolate: anything other then... yeah.

Near: Hnn. Talk to me about Elliot.

Mello: n.n Elliot...damn. That man's like... yeah... :D He's awesome.

Near: :glares at dice: (I don't think Mello noticed) You spent a lot of time with him when you transcribed. Did you find out anything of interest about him?

Mello: Oh, you mean the one with that first Generation Wammy's kid? Yeah, actually... :laughs a bit:

Near: Oh? Do tell... :accidentally knocks over dice tower, doesn't notice at this time:

Mello: ... He may or may not have told me some details about the sexy broad he had help him solve the case.

Near: He...used that term? "Sexy"? O.O

Mello: Well... no. But he meant it. He asked specifically that I make it sound like they'd never met when he found out I was going through the files.

Near: ... But they had? Mello, don't leave me hanging here...

Mello: Yeah, They'd known each other since before we were born.

Near: God damn... No way. Fuck ... Fuck :bursts out laughing:

Mello: :looks a bit worried, but laughs a bit as well: there's more.

Near: Oh? Tell me. Please, let me know.

Mello: When I was going through all the random case related shit, I found a really old notebook

Near: notebook? You mean...

Mello:No, no get your mind out of the Kira case Near...

Near: then what WAS it?!

Mello: A diary/ datebook

Near:... keep going or I'll fucking strangle you.

Mello: It was -ELLIOT'S- Diary/datebook

Near: AND!?

Mello: It was from like ages ago, it was kinda hard to read. You would have been like two or three. It doesn't matter. It's Elliot's private life. I don't think you're mature enough for this.

That was when I tackled him to the ground, sitting on his chest and putting one hand in his girly hair and the other pushing hard on his bad shoulder. His eyes were like saucers.

Near: TELL ME!!

Mello: O.O holy shit, he banged the chick, okay? He had a whole racy fucking memory written out that my fourteen year old self read, okay? I got a boner and never forgot it. End of story and beginning of realizing my childish idol crush on L wouldn't work because he was straight, and of course I was too. Get off you're hurting!!

I got off of Mello. He brushed himself off and tried to make it look like he wasn't afraid of me, like I just hadn't managed to pin him. I began to put my dice back into a tower

Mello: You have some problems Near, you know that?

Near:... you just solved a bunch of them. Thank you.

Mello: ... :backed away slowly, running once he got out the door.:

I almost couldn't hear the sound of his boots over my own laughter. I laughed for a long time. I'm -STILL- laughing, Elliot.

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Living And Breathing: I know you're still laughing. I can hear you. It's getting rather annoying.

- AlbinoMechChild: Busted, Elliot. Busted. I know who my mom is. Why wouldn't you just TELL me? Why did Mello have to, not even knowing why it was so fucking significant?! Why did I have to almost BEAT it out of a friend, when you knew the entire time? Why!?

- - Living And Breathing: It was for your own good. I shall have to speak with Mello later.

- - - AlbinoMechChild: How in -HELL- is it for my own good?

- - - - Living And Breathing:I see it hasn't occured to you yet. Let me know when the obsession starts. At the moment...I'm going to have nap. I'll speak with you later.

- - - - - AlbinoMechChild: Obsession?


	14. Day Sixteen: Kira will pay

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Sixteen

* * *

Matthew decided to "inform me" of my heritage. I laughed. He seemed shocked that I already knew. However... why tell Matt what you wouldn't tell ME, Elliot!? Was this to be all upfront and show that you have nothing to hide in regards to screwing his sister? I'm your kid, doesn't my opinion count at all in your relationships? If you two get married she'd be my step mother! I've hardly said hello to the damn woman! And she smokes. I don't like that she smokes. Linder smokes. Linder is a horrible mother. Maybe there's a connection!

I...I don't think Jade likes me. You can't be in love with a woman who doesn't like your kid, can you? Goddamnit... PAY ATTENTION TO ME! ACKNOWLEDGE ME AS YOUR OFFSPRING!I'm aware I'm being childish and petty, but you know what? I'M FOURTEEN. I'm ANGSTY. And **YOU DON'T LOVE ME**!

.

.

Nobody loves me. Linder tried to apologize today. I think she thinks I'm going to press charges of child molestation, since I'm only fourteen... She reminded me that we agreed that there were to be no strings attached. Then she told me that Rester proposed and she's asking him to wait. I really, really don't care. She doesn't love me, so why should it matter if she gets married or not?

And as for the obsession... Yes, Kira killed my mother. It would be reasonable for me to become obsessed about getting revenge. I'm not. I mean...of course I want to catch Kira, and yes, now that I know that he has done something against me personally, I may be a tad more ruthless. But I'm not -stupid-. I'm not going to go get extra involved because he killed yet -another- woman that I never knew.

For when you get right down to it, that's all that my mother was. Another woman that I never knew.

The only difference is that she is one that I -wanted- to know.

And though I've never met her, I miss her.

Kira will pay.

* * *

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	15. Day Seventeen: Mommy

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Sixteen

* * *

-.-

I met Jade.

She's nice. Very nice. Actually, strike that, she's a bit of a bitch. I love it. I almost called her mommy with a Freudian slip.

She beat me at chess.

And checkers.

I beat her at darts, at least...

and then we both cheated at poker.

Then she had to go on a date thing with L and I got stuck with her brother.

He's pretty nice too. I thought someone so close to Mello would hate me on sight, but I guess... he's decent.

I beat him at chess.

And checkers.

He beat me at darts though.

And then we both cheated at poker. :)

I read his tarot cards. He doesn't know it, I don't think, but I cheated. I gave him cards that I think will give him the motivation to get back with that blond asshole of his. He was rather depressing, if fun, without the little leather wearing bastard.

I have had my song chosen for a while. It is suitably emo. It is called "Perfect" by Simple Plan.

_Hey dad look at me  
Think back and talk to me  
Did I grow up according to plan?  
And do you think I'm  
wasting my time doing  
things I wanna do?  
'but it hurts when you  
disapprove all along_

_And now I try hard to make it  
I just wanna to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be  
good enough for you  
I can't pretend that  
I'm alright  
And you can't change me_

_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

_I try not to think  
About the pain I feel inside  
Did you know you used  
to be my hero?  
All the days you spend with me  
Now seem so far away  
And it feels like you  
don't care anymore_

_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be  
good enough for you  
I can't stand another fight  
And nothing's alright_

_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

_Nothing's gonna change  
the things that you  
said  
Nothing's gonna make  
this right again  
Please don't turn your back  
I can't believe it's hard  
Just to talk to you  
But you don't understand_

_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

I'm fairly certain it's obvious who this is aimed for. I hope he gets it.

* * *

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	16. Day Eighteen: Marker

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Eighteen

* * *

My party was a success, I think.

It was... of great interest, from an objective standpoint. The power of music over the mind was proven, in a few ways.

I improved my relationship with my father.

Linder and Rester are over, completely.

My father and his... significant other (?) are happier with each other.

Matthew and Mello are back together.

Relations between Matthew and his father are stressed, to say the least.

All in all, life is good.

Matthew and Mello are due to wed very soon, Gevanni just has to make the final arrangement. He shall do so with glee. I truly wouldn't be surprised if soon that man crosses the line and becomes a criminal. A perverted, sick one -.-;;

I really don't want that to happen. Then no one would fetch me my toys. Oh... about that... Rester quit. I was not at all surprised, I've seen it coming since Linder knew she was pregnant. Last night was the final straw...

Though I must say, he should have chosen a better song if he was trying to win her over at all. Saying how a woman is a "bitch" but you "love her anyway" earns you a slap, which is exactly what he got. I almost giggled. However, then he glared at me and I had a slight fear for my mortality... and then, of all people, Elliot, my father, puts himself between us and tell Rester about how violence is not something that would be appreciated ...

So of course, Rester backed down. My father protected me in a paternal manner! I then proceeded to embrace him and express thanks. He and I have had a talk since then. He's going to be more like a parent now that he knows how awful he's been, and how much it distressed me. I just have to promise not to take black marker to my hair again.

I suppose I didn't mention that. I decided to go for an emo look, just after being onstage... I went and took a (thankfully) washable black marker to my hair... dye is a bit too harsh for my scalp... right now I have black hair. I am confined to my room "grounded"... but I have no objections. I feel very foolish. Repeated washings have muted the colour slightly, but I seem to have actually damaged my almost transparent hair with the marker...it is not going to come completely clean for a long while...

Ah, my alarm went off... I need to go re-shampoo...

Goodbye for now...

* * *

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_Living and breathing_: ... I take it back . Father's are not necisarily like sons... O.O


	17. Day Nineteen: Boob!

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Nineteen

* * *

Well well well... Mello keeps a journal...I just wanted to see if their room had any extra shampoo...one the first page he says he's sick of all the justice stuff. Then the rest is more or less smut with occasional bits of violence. Typical Mello.

Only one thing threw me. He wrote out what happened to his family... I didn't know.I didn't know that it had happened, and I didn't know that Mello was capable of being that vulnerable...I felt -bad- for him. Then I read more violence and smut and yeah... I started writing in his journal. And then suddenly I got smacked with a laundry basket. And then Mello was half standing on me. So of course we started to bicker.

"What the fuck are you doing in my room reading my shit?"

"Looking for shampoo. As you can see, my hair has a bit of an issue...Why are you keeping a journal?"

"KEEP YOUR VOICE DOWN, fucking Albino freak!"

"Be nice, androgynous geek!"

"Shut the fuck up Pedobait!"

"Make me Shmedomait!"

"PUSSY!"

"Wussy."

"Noob!"

And then the only word that could come to mind at the time. Just as Matt walked in, no less.

"...boob!"

There was an awkward silence before Mello and I burst out laughing, and Matt quirked an eyebrow in confusion. Then Mello threw me out of the room and chucked a bottle of shampoo at my head. I have a bump now :'(

But anyways, Elliot... he's given up on justice. Can I be number one again?

* * *

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_Living and breathing_: I've read his journal. No, you can't.


	18. after the honeymoon: Seperation anxiety

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Nearly There

Hello again. This is the third piece to go with "Betchin' Blog" and "Fecking Diary" This would be Near's private blog/ journal.

Day Nineteen

* * *

My Wi-fi shut down. It has been quite a while... I finally got it working again... I'm.. glad.I'm not grounded anymore, that ended ages ago....my hair is white again, except for the tips... it grows fast...

I'm very sad right now. Not "emo"... Sad.I think I'm suffering from Separation anxiety...

Separation anxiety is a psychological condition in which an individual has excessive anxiety regarding separation from home or from people to whom the individual has a strong emotional attachment (like a father and mother).

Present in all age groups, adult separation anxiety disorder (affecting roughly 7% of adults) is more common than childhood separation anxiety disorder (affecting approximately 4% of children). Separation anxiety disorder is often characterized by some of the following symptoms:

Recurring distress when separated from the subject of attachment (such as significant other, the father or the mother, or home).  
Persistent, excessive worrying about losing the subject of attachment.  
Persistent, excessive worrying that some event will lead to separation from a major attachment.  
Excessive fear about being alone without subject of attachment.  
Persistent reluctance or refusal to go to sleep without being near a major attachment figure, like a significant other or mother.  
Recurrent nightmares about separation

..... just replace "mother" with "daughter'....

My little Natasha....who I've taken care of during this whole honey moon thing (with Elliot's help)..... she's off with Matt and Mello.... and... I can't -breathe- right...... I

* * *

I apologize. I was... interrupted. I ... am crying now. Elliot just... hugged me.... and tried to...make me feel better....

I... -hurt-. Elliot had one of his Doctors come and look at me.... apparently I'm fine.

I thought that once Kira was dealt with, I would be happy. I know where he is. I finally have him behind bars. It was easy enough after the wedding to get a shot of sodium diopenthal into 's system, and "suggest" he give up memory of the death note and cough up the address off his lover. I thought that once I knew that my mother, Misora, had been avenged, I would be happy. I... still miss her, as well... a seperation from someone that I never really knew. I really want my mo

* * *

I again apologize. I keep getting .... hugged...and comforted....

I just cried on Jade's shoulder. She is a permanent fixture in this house now. Oh yes...I moved in with Elliot. What with Lidner going off to Cuba the minute Kira was apprehended, Rester having quit ages ago, and Givanni clearly wanting to take advantage of a certain mind-wiped lawyer.... I didn't want to be alone in that big SPK building with Natasha.... so Elliot let me live with him and Jade.... I've spent some time with James, Matt's dad as well. We still get along like we did when we first met.... he likes Natasha. He will make for a good grand-father. So does Elliot...

I'm so damn lonely though... even with people cuddling me.... I feel.... she's my -daughter-, dammit.... and though her mother may be a fucking bitch.....

This is pointless. I'm going to go sleep. I'm glad I could get this out. I'll have to re-read it later and see what can be gleaned...

* * *

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